Anchored
by WitandAmbition
Summary: When his plans get tossed around unexpectedly, Harry returns to school along with his friends for their seventh year. All of them have to figure out how to live in the post-war world. (HP/DG, RW/HG, DM/GiW.)
1. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.**

In his old age, Cyrus Greengrass had developed a particular fondness for ugly yellow couches. For whatever reason, they always seemed to be the most comfortable, at least by his definition of the word. The one he was sitting upon now was particularly firm, and he had no fear of being unable to stand up should the action be necessary.

Across from him sat a blonde woman. If she detested the furniture, she made no comment. In fact, her expression had hardly changed since she entered his office. Sunlight filtered through the blinds, throwing her features into sharp relief. Even then, there was little color to her.

They continued to remain in silence as Cyrus contemplated her words.

"A proposal," he said at last. "And how, may I ask, do you _propose_ for it to occur?"

"Very easily," the woman replied. "My son is besotted with the girl. He even saved Potter for her. Given time, I am sure Draco can convince her to leave him."

Through the open window, he could hear his great-grandchildren's laughter. The girls had taken Jason and Cora outside for the first time in many days. Ever since the Final Battle, the weather had been wet and dull. The children were enjoying the brief dry period by learning how to fly.

"Mr. Greengrass." The woman leaned forward, her pale blue eyes almost gray they were so dull. "I assure you that this will benefit both of us. Both of your granddaughters are wonderful girls. I have no doubt that a good man will fall in love with them. Even if he shouldn't, they will be well taken care of."

Her gaze then fell to the money bag, which still lay on the table in between them. Cyrus' stomach was a hard knot. The money was the exact amount they needed to keep the shop afloat. Hardly anyone came into _A Pinch of Gold_ anymore, as the general populace avoided areas with known pureblood associations.

"If I could just have more time," he began, only to be interrupted by the woman.

"I'm afraid, Mr. Greengrass, that we are running out of time. If we do not move quickly, then Potter will get back together with the Weasley girl. My son will have no hope of a chance then."

He strained to keep his face expressionless as he reached for the money bag. There was more than one reason she was arranging this. Her husband had just been arrested, but if her son were to marry Ginny Weasley, then he could be saved from the Death Eater trials.

"Then we have a deal, Mrs. Malfoy. Consider the betrothal void."

Astoria's mother would be pleased. Silvia had only agreed to the betrothal because it looked like Voldemort would win the war and she wanted to ensure her daughters' safety in the aftermath. Now all Cyrus had to do was break the engagement between Daphne and Theodore Nott. That one would be easier, since the boy's father had been among the Death Eaters killed in the battle.

Once Mrs. Malfoy had been escorted from the manor, Cyrus went to the window and looked out onto the lawn. His great-granddaughter's shout of, "I did it!" brought a smile to his face. Hovering a few inches above the ground, Daphne was standing upon her broom with her arms extended, and Cora had just managed to copy her.

"Cyrus?"

He turned to look at his wife as she entered the room. Her golden brown hair was now almost entirely gray and new lines had formed upon her face, and she did not move with the grace she once possessed as she joined him at the window.

"They're happy," he said softly. "I want them to stay that way."

Loretta wrapped an arm around his own and leaned against his side. "They will," she replied. "We'll make sure of it."

He pulled her closer and hugged her, wishing he could be just as certain as her.

* * *

For the first time in several years, Platform Nine-and-Three-Quarters was quite busy. Harry had never realized how many people avoided sending their children to Hogwarts because of the looming threat of Voldemort. He couldn't be happy about the new students, though, as he noticed the disturbing lack of younger children.

From beside him, Ron spoke up yet again.

"I'm just saying, you really didn't have to move out –"

"I'm not going to sit there and watch her flaunt her relationship _right in front of me_ and pretend I'm happy," Harry said shortly. He'd been through that once with Ginny and he wasn't doing it again.

Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Draco and Ginny pass by the window. Both of them were laughing as they strained to carry her trunk onto the train. The joyous expression on her face was like a stab to Harry's heart. If only he'd prioritized Ginny more, then they would still be together.

"I'll kill him," Ron offered.

Harry managed a wan smile. "Thanks, but I prefer seeing you out of prison."

"Hey, we're war heroes now. I'm sure that gives us special dispensation to kill annoying gits."

This time, Harry's lips rose a bit higher. Ever since they'd returned from Australia, Ron had been trying to make light of the situation for Harry's benefit.

"I should've invited her," he sighed. "Then none of this would be happening."

Ron lifted one shoulder in a shrug. "It's always been the three of us," he said simply.

The crowd on the platform became louder and as they both peered what was causing the ruckus, Ron grimaced. A cluster had formed around Hermione, who looked to have just passed through the barrier. Mr. and Mrs. Weasley were attempting to fight their way to her, but the crowd was too thick.

"I'll be right back," said Ron. "Hermione's not good with crowds."

Harry let him go alone. All three of them would have just caused more chaos. Besides, Ron was much better at handling people than Harry was. When all of the attention was on him, Harry either clammed up or became snarky, neither of which was good for his reputation. For now, Kingsley had ordered Harry to avoid reporters until they had worked on Harry's people skills.

_And control of my stupid, blabbing mouth,_ Harry thought darkly. He'd gotten a lot of questions about Horcruxes after the war. For whatever reason, people had latched onto that word instead of the truth of Snape's loyalty. Then again, the majority of people in the Great Hall that day had lived under Snape's reign, and they weren't about to forgive his actions. After all, he'd been in a position to stop the torture completely, and yet first-years still received the Cruciatus Curse.

Everything had been put into perspective for Harry by a single comment from McGonagall. She had a way of doing that for him, and his admiration for her had only grown in the four months since the battle.

_"It's a pity,"_ she had said when Harry told her about Snape's role in the war. _"He could have been a good man." _Then she stood straight, despite the new streaks of gray in her hair and the haunted look in her eyes. _"Now if you'll excuse me Mr. Potter, I have a school to repair."_

A knock on the compartment drew him from his brooding.

"Mind if I come in?" Neville asked, grinning.

Harry smiled back at him and gestured to the other seat.

"'Course you can, Nev. You're always welcome."

Shortly afterward, Ron returned with Hermione, and both of them were pleased to see that Neville had joined them. As soon as they all decided to return for their seventh year, they'd let Neville and Luna know their plan. After several fights with his grandmother, who wanted him to join the Aurors, Neville had gotten permission to go back to school. Luna had opted to travel the world with her father instead.

The blast of the train whistle warned them of their imminent departure, and Ron leaned out the window to call out one last farewell to his parents. Then there was a lurch as the train began to leave the station and Hermione pulled Ron back into the compartment.

"Where's Ginny?" Neville asked curiously.

For a moment, there was only a tense silence. Harry kept his gaze on the world passing by the window. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ron and Hermione exchange a glance. They weren't going to answer for him.

"She has a new boyfriend," he said gruffly.

"Oh," was all Neville said initially. Then after a pause, he added, "That's good. I never liked you two together."

Harry only grunted in response. He knew Neville was trying to console him, but it still didn't take away the sting of Ginny's betrayal. _You weren't even dating,_ a voice whispered in his mind. _What'd you expect her to do, throw herself into your arms and welcome you home?_

He had, in fact, expected exactly that. The two weeks they'd spent together in his sixth year had been heavenly. He still remembered all of their trysts in the broom closet, like when she'd let him touch her bare skin for the first time or the look in her eyes when she'd knelt in front of him. Ginny had made his heart pound like no one else had ever done before.

About an hour into the train ride, the door was opened again and a blonde girl entered the compartment. Harry, Ron, and Hermione all looked at her bemusedly as she turned to Neville. She seemed to be steadfastly ignoring everyone else in the compartment.

"Can we stay in here with you?"

"Er," he said intelligently, glancing at Harry, Ron, and Hermione with wide eyes. His cheeks were tinged pink, as if he were embarrassed. "Yeah, I guess. They're cool."

"Thanks."

She took the seat beside him and two more girls, one of them Hannah Abbott, followed her into the compartment. They all squeezed onto the one bench and Harry noted that Hannah didn't seem particularly upset that she was practically on Neville's lap.

"These are my cousins by marriage," Hannah said, gesturing to the other girls. "Daphne and Astoria Greengrass."

After a nudge from Hannah, the older girl, Daphne, said, "Pleasure to meet you," in a very polite tone. Beside her, Astoria muttered something unintelligible in another language. Harry couldn't be sure if it was a greeting or a curse.

"Hold on," Ron said, his eyes narrowing. "If they're Greengrasses –"

"Yes, they're in Slytherin," Hannah interrupted. "And yes, I trust them."

She maintained eye contact with Ron until he looked away. A muscle ticked in his jaw, though, and Hermione put a hand on his leg and squeezed reassuringly. Ever since the end of the war, she'd been more reticent. Ron had quietly told Harry that she was having a hard time coming to terms with what happened in Malfoy Manor.

"Are you sure?" Harry felt the need to ask Hannah.

"Yes," she ground out.

Daphne's mouth opened, her eyes tight with repressed anger.

"They're good," Neville said quickly, and Daphne's mouth snapped closed. He looked at them all pleadingly. "I promise, they're good."

Harry struggled to put his doubt into words. None of the Slytherins, with the exclusion of Professor Slughorn, had helped in the Final Battle. He didn't believe their excuse that they would be fighting against their own family. Sirius had done so, after all.

"Daphne slid information to Neville," a quiet voice broke the silence. "She risked her own life for your lot. If that doesn't count for something, I don't know what does."

Even Daphne looked at her sister in surprise. Astoria had been turned away from all of them, but now she faced Harry, her dark blue eyes hard and intent despite her flat tone. At a loss for any other response, Harry held his hands up and shrugged. He wasn't about to get in a fight with her, not when Neville's expression was beseeching him to remain civil.

"Well," Hermione murmured. "This year will be interesting."

An inexplicable urge to laugh bubbled up inside Harry, and it was released when Ron let out a soft huff of amusement. Even Neville cracked a smile, and Hermione looked pleased with herself. Hannah, Daphne, and Astoria were all staring at them like they were idiots. Harry didn't mind; as Gryffindors, they had a reputation to maintain.

By the time the train pulled into the Hogsmeade Station, they'd all learned how to converse with each other in reasonably polite tones. Still, Astoria lurched out of the compartment, as if she couldn't escape them fast enough.

"Sorry about that," said Daphne. "Her boyfriend broke up with her and she's…"

She paused, as if she didn't know how to end the sentence nicely, and Harry said, "Yeah, I understand."

Daphne smiled, and Harry, who'd thought she was rather plain when he'd first seen her, realized that it was unfair to compare other women to Ginny. She might not have been arousing like Ginny, but she had a natural beauty that made her captivating. Harry decided he liked Daphne's smile.

"See you around, Potter," she said before Hannah pulled her into the corridor.

"Don't even think about it, _Potter_," said Neville with a knowing look. "She's way out of your league."

Harry's brows rose. "I'm Harry Potter," he retorted, puffing up his chest in a way that would have made Snape sneer. "No one is out of my league."

"Oh boy," Ron muttered to Hermione, who giggled.

* * *

Hermione took ahold of Ron's hand as she stepped off the train. Her chest tightened with fear and with her other hand, she grabbed onto Harry's robe. Still uncomfortable with people touching him, Harry let her cling to the material as they both followed Ron through the crowd to the carriages.

Her gaze was drawn up to the castle atop the hill. Hogwarts beckoned to them with warm lights, but unlike when she was younger, it didn't give Hermione a sense of home. Only the two boys on either side of her could do that anymore. She was so glad they'd agreed to accompany her back to school. Otherwise her only companion would've been Ginny.

"We can do this," Hermione whispered.

"'Course we can," Ron said, sounding confident. "We're war heroes. We can conquer anything."

He slid a sly glance toward Harry.

"Or _anyone_, as the case may be."

"I was just joking," Harry said a bit defensively.

"Mm-hmm. You _do_ have a tendency to like pretty women with long hair… Now we just have to find out if she plays Quidditch…"

As Harry's face grew red, Hermione turned away to hide her smile from him. He definitely had a type, even though he was likely to deny that fact.

"Oh, look," Ron said brightly. "This carriage is open."

Hermione carefully avoided looking at the thestrels as she climbed into the carriage. As the skeletal horses began trotting forward, she leaned against Ron and let the gentle rocking of the carriage and the clopping of hooves guide her into a brief sleep. He woke her again when they arrived at the base of the granite stairs leading up to the Entrance Hall.

The school had changed in tiny, barely noticeable ways since she'd last been a student. In the Great Hall, the stained glass windows depicted all sorts of creatures, and Hermione allowed herself a small, melancholy smile when she noted a giant which resembled Grawp. She then looked up at the ceiling and drew comfort from the clear, starry sky above them.

Another change was the table set-up. As the students streamed into the hall, several of them sat with their friends from different Houses, and McGonagall declared she would allow it only for this Welcoming Feast. Next year, she would be stricter on the rules.

Then Professor Sprout led the new first-years down the aisle, and Hermione sucked in a breath. _Were we really that small?_ she wondered, her eyes sweeping over the group as Professor Sprout set up the stool. Not only were the first-years much shorter than Hermione ever recalled being in her life, but there were so few of them, too.

She swallowed thickly as she realized just how many families they'd lost in the war. The Muggleborn Registration Commission had taken a greater toll than she'd thought.

"Applegarth, Douglas!" called Sprout.

A boy detached himself from the small cluster and approached the stool slowly. Professor Sprout tried to smile at him encouragingly, but the expression was more of a grimace. With obvious trepidation, the boy sat down and allowed the Hat to be lowered onto his head. Hermione held her breath as she waited for the boy's sorting to be announced.

At last, the slit on the Hat opened up.

"SLYTHERIN!"

The room erupted with voices, but the boy's rose above the rest.

"No!" he cried as Sprout took off the Hat. "Let me try again, please, there has to be a mistake –"

"There is no mistake," she said, her tone kind but her eyes tight. "Go on now, your House is waiting for you."

He turned to the Slytherin table, his eyes wide. Most of the older students stared back at him with sympathy. An ache formed in Hermione's throat as she watched him drag his feet to the table. She couldn't even imagine what he must be feeling right now.

Ron's hand slid into her own and she let his familiar grip calm her down again. She then offered up a prayer to whichever gods might exist that they would make it through this year.

* * *

**AN:** But soft! Have I started another story?

_Yes. Yes, I have._


	2. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer: Harry Potter belongs to J.K. Rowling. I make no claims to ownership.**

Slytherin had gained only seven students with the latest batch of first-years. Those seven students were now lined up in front of Daphne and Theo, looking up at them with frightened eyes. Behind the first-years were the older students, all of them with wan and drawn expressions. Everyone in the room knew what it meant to be in Slytherin in this new era.

Daphne cleared her throat to get their attention.

"Welcome to Slytherin," she began in her most beguiling tone. There was a reason she had been selected as Prefect over Pansy. "I wish to congratulate you on making into the best House in Hogwarts."

She paused as Tracey let out a whoop from the back of the crowd.

"You are the first of a new generation, which means you have the chance to choose the direction this House takes. I know that seems scary, but we, each of us…"

She swept her gaze over the older students, several of whom stood straighter at her pointed look. Draco Malfoy just stared back at her sullenly. He hadn't liked that Theo was chosen to replace him as Prefect.

"…are here to help you on that path," she continued. "I know you want to stick with the people you know, but I encourage you to branch out. Get to know people from other Houses. That is the only way we can change our image."

After the speech was completed and the first-years were guided away, Draco came up to her only to have Theo step in between them. Draco stopped, looking stricken. In Daphne's opinion, he shouldn't be so shocked that Theo was on her side. He and Theo might have grown up together, but in the years since they'd come to Hogwarts, they'd hardly even spoken to each other.

"It's okay, Theo," said Daphne. "I'm not wasting my time on him."

Then she spun on her heel, letting her robes whirl around her in a grand display of haughtiness, and disappeared down the hallway to the girls' dorms.

Her room was strangely empty, which meant Tracey must be with Blaise. Neither Pansy nor Millicent had chosen to retake their seventh year; in Pansy's opinion, at least, they had learned everything they needed under the Carrows' reign. Daphne didn't know Millicent's reason for not returning, but they'd only gotten along out of necessity, so she wasn't sad to see her other roommate missing.

With a sigh, Daphne sat on her bed. Then she flopped onto her back, a graceless move which would have drawn a lecture about decorum from her mother. She stared up at the canopy above her, absorbed in her own thoughts.

She'd have to do something about Theo. After his father's imprisonment, their relationship had fizzled out, but he clearly still had feelings for her. There was also the matter of their engagement. Although she'd considered calling it off by letter, she had decided that would be unfair to Theo, and she should do it in person.

"Stupid Hufflepuff," Daphne said aloud.

As a Slytherin, she shouldn't care about fairness. From what Snape had taught them, she should only care about her own feelings. Unfortunately Daphne had been raised by Damon Greengrass, who might as well have been a Hufflepuff himself.

Her vision blurred with tears. A year had passed since her father had died, and yet the mere thought of him could make her cry. She scrubbed at her eyes, wishing the ache in her chest would disappear. Unfortunately, the pain of loss never just disappeared on its own.

* * *

When Ginny was a child, her parents had taken her to meet her mother's cousin, Alphonse Prewett. His daughter, Mafalda, was only two years younger than Ginny. Although her father was a Squib, Mafalda had proven to be adapt at magic. With no idea how to handle her abilities, Alphonse had reached out to Ginny's parents for help. Ginny had been banished outside with Mafalda while the adults discussed the issue.

After putting up with Mafalda's pretentious attitude, Ginny informed her parents that she didn't want to see her cousin ever again. If Mafalda really did end up attending Hogwarts, Ginny would stay far away from her. What Ginny had never predicted was that she would date a Slytherin, and visiting her boyfriend at the dorms would result in encounters with Mafalda.

"You broke up with _Harry Potter_? To date _that_ idiot?" Mafalda's heavy-lidded eyes swept over Ginny as she sneered. "Talk about a downgrade."

"I don't want _your_ opinion," Ginny snapped, bristling with irritation. It had been a long day and all she wanted to do was snog her boyfriend. "Will you let me in or not?"

Mafalda tapped one finger against her chin, pretending to think.

"Hmm, I don't think I will. Have a good day, dearest cousin."

Then, with a very sharp smile, she closed the door in Ginny's face.

"Oi!" Ginny slammed her fist against the door. "Let me in!"

"That won't work," said a voice from behind her. "Even if you get inside, they'll throw you back out."

Swinging around, Ginny started a retort only to have it die in her throat. Here was another relation she generally avoided. However, unlike Mafalda, Elias Prewett was in the same year as Ginny. Usually he stayed distant from her, but occasionally there would be incidences like this, where he would try to strike up a conversation with her.

He raised one eyebrow. "Not so quick-witted today, are we?"

Heat flushed through her body and her jaw clenched.

"D'you think I'm an idiot?" she demanded.

His other brow rose. "Does my opinion matter?" he asked, tilting his head and surveying her with light, almost pale blue eyes. They were his only distinguishing feature as a Prewett; his hair was a rich, dark brown color with not even a hint of red. "Or are you seeking some kind of validation, and I should say, 'No, of course not, I think you're the most brilliant person I've ever met'?"

"The latter would be nice," Ginny said sarcastically.

A smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, his eyes glinting with humor, and her stomach clenched as she realized he resembled Fred and George. She didn't know if the twist of his mouth came from the Prewett or the Black side, as they both shared relations to the families, but she could definitely see her brothers' traits in Elias.

George's_ traits,_ she reminded herself. _Fred is dead now, and you will never, ever see him again._

That thought caused her stomach to twist even more. Crying was a sign of weakness, one she wouldn't show in front of anyone else, but at this moment she wanted nothing more than to release her grief. A headache was coming on and she was no longer interested in burying her feelings inside Draco.

"Hey, are you okay?" Elias had stepped forward, his hand outstretched and hovering in between them.

She forced a smile. "Yeah, I'm fine. I'll just be going now."

He moved aside to let her pass by him, but when he called out her name, Ginny glanced back at him.

"I don't know if this'll help you in any way," he said, "but I think you're doing the right thing."

Ginny didn't bother to contain her snort.

"You don't even know what that 'thing' is, do you?"

"No," he admitted with a shrug, "but it helps, doesn't it?"

This time, her smile was a touch more genuine.

"It does. Thanks… Prewett."

Once more, his eyes shown with humor as he replied, "Anytime, Weasley."

All her life, Ginny had been taught that the Black family was inherently evil. As she headed back to Gryffindor tower, she wondered if her mother was wrong about them. They might not be the best of influences, but other than Bellatrix, they seemed to be decent people.

* * *

By the time Ron had started brushing his teeth, Dean, Seamus, and Neville were already out the door, leaving on quick, light feet. All three of them had been up at the crack of dawn, and both Neville and Seamus had moved so efficiently that Ron wondered if they were in a military camp. He tilted his head, trying to hear if they'd reached the bottom of the staircase, but everything was silent.

Harry yawned as he lumbered into the bathroom.

"Is it just me," he said, hand groping for the tube of toothpaste Ron had left on the counter, "or is there something off about this place?"

"It's too quiet," Ron realized aloud, Harry's words finally making it click. "As if everyone's too scared to speak."

Harry's head turned toward him, his eyes squinting sightlessly. Ron nudged the tube into his hand and Harry murmured 'thanks' before he responded.

"Snape really screwed them over, didn't he?" he said, venom heavy in his tone as he squeezed the toothpaste far too hard.

Ron shrugged uncomfortably. "If they aren't speaking, then they can't get in trouble," he reasoned.

"We're Gryffindors, Ron. We don't need words to get in trouble."

Since that was true, he only shrugged again in response.

They finished getting dressed just in time for Hermione to arrive. He immediately took her hand into his own and they followed Harry down to the Great Hall, where Neville waved them over to the end of the Gryffindor table. Ron could feel several people watching them as they sat down. At one time, he would have reveled in the attention, but now it made him distinctly uncomfortable. Hermione huddled closer to him and he put an arm around her shoulders.

"Should've become an Auror," he muttered to her. "Then I wouldn't have to deal with this shit."

Her hand tightened on his leg. "And _I'd_ be alone," she said softly, a distinct note of vulnerability in her voice.

He glanced down the table toward his sister. Ginny looked self-assured as ever, even though her group of friends was significantly smaller compared to when she was dating Harry. Quite a few people still looked at her with adoration, though, especially the boys. If Hermione tried to sit with them, she'd only be shunted to the side or mocked for her beliefs.

"I'm not going anywhere," he promised Hermione, and she gave him one of her small, meek smiles.

The new Dark Arts professor, Tox, came by with their timetables. Ron glanced over his own gloomily. For the first time, he regretted not taking the harder classes with Hermione.

"Ready to go?" asked Harry, shoving his own schedule into his bag.

Ron had never seen his best friend look so eager for Potions class.

"You know we still have Slughorn," he pointed out.

Harry grimaced at the reminder.

"Yeah, but I want to ask him questions about my mum," he explained. "Apparently she was one of his best students."

"I bet your dad was, too," said Hermione. "His father was a Master Brewer, so I wouldn't doubt Slughorn tried to recruit him for the club."

"He _was_?" Harry asked incredulously.

As Ron looked around at her in surprise, too, he noticed Harry's true reason for wanting to leave so quickly. Draco was now sitting next to Ginny, and although she had brightened at his presence, the people around them were giving the couple a wide berth.

"Slughorn will know more," he said, standing from the table. "Let's go ask him."

On their way to the dungeons, Hermione explained how she had noticed the name 'Fleamont Potter' on a bottle of Sleekeazy's Hair Potion. Ron watched her as she spoke incessantly about her research. By investigating Harry's own past, they could help distract him from his lost future with Ginny. Hopefully another project would help Hermione recover from her own depression, too.

"It confused me for a while," Hermione admitted. "Sometimes he was called Fleamont, sometimes he was called Charlus. Then I found his birth certificate – they have a record of all pureblood families, did you know that? – and his full name was Charlus Fleamont Potter."

"Oh, thank God," said Harry. "I've heard some pretty bad names before, but _Flea Mountain_?"

Hermione giggled. "It really is awful, isn't it?"

"That's a lesson to be learned," said Ron. "Weird names should be reserved for the middle slot, and you don't _ever_ call the kid by their middle name."

With his girlfriend and best friend around, he immediately regretted opening his mouth.

"Why ever not, _Bilius_?" Harry teased.

"I'm going to name my son Snowflake," Hermione said decisively.

"Piss off, both of you," Ron said just as they reached the Potions classroom.

Proving that Ron had the worst luck in the world, Slughorn opened the door and said, "That'll be five points, Sweeney."

"Snowflake Sweeney," Harry mused. "I love the alliteration."

Ron felt his skin flush at the implication. If Harry weren't his best friend, Slughorn might have been dealing with another attempted murder. As it was, he could only glare at his friend as they entered the classroom.

Oblivious to the threat upon his life, Harry turned to Slughorn, a look of eagerness upon his face. Hermione stepped back from him as if to give him room to act.

Slughorn looked between Harry and Hermione, a gleam in his eye.

"Oh, I know what this is about," he said. "Just like your father, aren't you? You fell for the Muggleborn of all people!"

Harry's expression of eagerness immediately transformed to horror.

"We – no – she's like my sister –"

"Hermione and I are dating," Ron said loudly.

Slughorn's eyes widened momentarily before he schooled his expression.

"Is that so? Well then, Harry, are you dating anyone right now? Because I know a young woman, I think you'd get along splendidly –"

"No thank you, sir," Harry said quickly. "I, er, just wanted to ask you about my parents. I don't really know much about them at all, and since you were their teacher I was hoping you could tell me more."

"Why didn't you just say so, m'boy? I know plenty!"

Slughorn ushered Harry and Hermione into seats at the front of the classroom. His chest tight with an emotion he preferred not to acknowledge, Ron followed them and joined them in watching Slughorn's eager storytelling. From Harry's avid expression, Ron knew they had made the right decision. Although Slughorn's stories were clearly embellished, they were successfully distracting Harry from his own thoughts.

Ron had never felt such hatred for his own sister until now.


End file.
